The Spike Files
by Tuppence
Summary: So I came up with two ideas for one-shots, both from Spike's PoV; so I thought, why not instead start another bunch of drabbles? Introducing a bunch of drabbles, Spike-centric, in no chronological order: The Spike Files. "When did he begin to care?"
1. His personal nuisance

**Author's note:** So...this was supposed to be a one-shot but, as always, it's developed into something a bit more. It's going to be a bunch of drabbles together, all from Spike's point of view. I'm going to try and make it ship-neutral...although I mean this in terms of "true love" point of view. Spike's a man, after all – and what's he supposed to do when so many beautiful women find him attractive? Anyway, I hope you like this. I actually got the idea for this story when I was messaging Cassandra about other random stuff.

I don't own Cowboy Bebop. Alas.

**His Personal Nuisance**

Spike could feel his eyebrows twitching with irritation but seemed wholly incapable of stopping it. Various scenarios were playing in his mind – ones where he throttled her, ones where he slapped her, ones where he pulled her hair, ones where he boxed her ears, but none of them would come into existence unless she woke up.

He was watching her as she was lying in front of him, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. He leant forward, just to check (again) that she was breathing. She was breathing. It didn't provide him much comfort though. God knew how that guy fucked people up and fucked their minds up. Maybe she would never wake up?

He frowned and forced his mind back into thinking of the different ways he would punish and torture and torment Faye. It was what he did best. And he had to admit, tormenting Faye had been his highlight ever since he had met her – a secret pleasure he didn't admit to himself; or hadn't admitted to himself, until today.

He bent over her again, this time placing two of his fingers along the side of her neck. Her pulse was faint but steady. Did it seem fainter than before or less faint? He wasn't sure. His eyes inadvertently went towards the various screens where that twit had been – brainwashing idiots and killing them. Idiots like Faye. And you couldn't find a bigger idiot anywhere, really, could you? He went through the numerous people he had met in his life. He remembered the people he had met in his syndicate days, when Vicious was his friend. He remembered the people he had met since he began bounty hunting. Nope – he couldn't think of a single person that was a bigger idiot than Faye.

His feet were tapping a nervous tattoo now and it was further exacerbating his short temper. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to ask a bunch of morons about this leader guy, he now finds a Faye who may or may not be catatonic. This was enough to piss off a saint, so what chances does a mere mortal have of not strangling the wench that put him through all this? He scowled at the oblivious Faye, eyes wondering to her neck and visualising his large hands surrounding it and squeezing it until he made her stop acting like such an idiot. Who the hell was this reckless anyway?

His fingers now joined his feet in tapping out the nervous rhythm – the _angry_ rhythm - as he sat there, unable to think of anything he could do at all. He had a feeling neither Jet nor Faye would be amused if he tried to slap her awake. He didn't think it would work either...but how much harm would it do to try it? His stern face lightened as his frown disappeared into a forced smirk. He, yet again (damn wench), leant over Faye and brought his hands to her face, intending to slap her cheeks. His eyes scrutinised her face closely, a little curiously, wondering what really went on behind Faye's mask. He looked at her eyes but they told him nothing. He went over her cheekbones – they weren't very prominent and they lacked her usual blusher. Her nose was dainty – it made her look like a child really. Her lips were relaxed for once, lacking her usual pout or smirk or grimace, and he found that her lips looked really rather tragic. They drooped downwards naturally, her thin lips accentuating this downturn, and he found himself wondering just how happy Faye really was. He knew that there had been something a little off-beat about her lately, and he had an uncomfortable feeling, which he usually successfully ignored, that it had something to do with Vincent. He brought his hands to her cheeks, more softly than he had intended. Nothing happened. He thought another slap couldn't hurt..._that_ much.

He knelt down properly now, beside Faye's unconscious figure. He sat on his heels, observing her and wondering what to do. His plans to torture and kill Faye were put on hold for now. He watched her jaw line – very strong, very powerful. And her chin was definitely mulish and obstinate. Even when she was sleeping, it seemed to jut out aggressively and challengingly. The woman was Trouble, with a capital T. In fact, now that he thought about it, she wasn't really a woman. She was more of a girl, really – silly, immature, wearing make-up to look cool, wearing skimpy clothes to feel grownup. She had high heeled boots to add to the whole effect of a girl trying to dress like a grownup. She failed miserably at it, too. Who'd think she had any sense or intelligence when they saw her? Nobody with a brain cell, that's who. In fact, he would bet that Faye was gullible enough to fall for every lie, line and story she was told by any guy who wanted her. He looked at her face as a whole. He had to admit...grudgingly...that a lot of guys _would _want her. He sighed. Women were trouble in general, but this one was more trouble than the average. His lips twitched up at the ends. She was above average in many ways...with her big mouth, the number of insults she knew, how fast she could turn from innocent angel to terrifying demon. Average really wasn't a word you could use or associate with Faye.

He sat back on the chair he had previously occupied. He looked at her face as a whole now, admiring how symmetrical it was and cursing how much trouble its beautiful symmetry brought him. His eyebrows went down, making his face seem harsh and severe, cruel. There was a faint pink tinge at bottom of her chin, right in the centre. He saw the trail of the fading scar travel down her neck, in an almost perfectly straight line, and he saw the line disappear under her clothes. He drew his eyes away and forced himself to ignore the rising bile in his throat. God, the woman was a bitch, but he didn't want anything that horrific to happen to her. His eyes went to her again. He felt new admiration for her, new respect for any woman who could come out as a full blown bitch with attitude after undergoing anything like...

He left the thought unfinished. If truth was told, he was a coward really. He didn't like facing unpleasant facts or ideas that were uncomfortable. He hadn't liked the idea that Faye may have loved Whitney. He didn't like the idea that Faye may have suffered something horrific that was left unimagined and would never be thought of again...hopefully. Funny that he hadn't noticed it when he was visualising himself strangling her. He had a feeling that there was a lot he missed when he was angry...or maybe he just willingly turned a blind eye? Faye was a lot more complex than he would ever comprehend. He knew and accepted that.

He scrambled forward. He thought he had seen a pause in her breathing. For just a second, her breathing had hitched; he was sure of it. He watched her chest rise and fall, before turning to her face. He leant into her face, centimetres separating them, and he felt the reassurance of her warm breath on his skin. Damn woman was such a nuisance.

He stood up and sat in his chair again. God knows how many times he had shot out of his chair, worried that Faye was dying or something, and that damn woman had the temerity to remain unconscious, looking peaceful and even slightly happy, at times. His lips formed a sulky pout and his eyebrows came together over the bridge of his nose. Damn woman was a – an annoying, reckless, selfish, self-centred, inconsiderate, crazy bitch of a girl pretending to be a woman AND she had a shrill voice, on top of all that. She was nothing short of a pest, a nuisance, a problem that should be gotten rid of as soon as possible.

His breath caught in his throat as he thought he saw her moving. Yes, she was definitely stirring now. About time she woke up! He wondered what to do once she was up. Throttling or slapping? Both had pros and cons, and he wasn't sure he had enough time to weigh them up and make up his mind.

She looked up heavy eyed and turned her gaze on him, green eyes lethargic and her movements sluggish. She made an inane comment and he found his face relaxing into a smile. What else was he supposed to do really? He couldn't get rid of her. He didn't _want _to get rid of her. What would he do for his entertainment otherwise? She was a nuisance – no question about that. But damn it all! She was his_ personal_ nuisance!

**Author's note:** What do you guys think? Please point out any typos or grammatical errors or any criticisms you have. I don't think this is as good quality as the other stuff I've uploaded for CB because this was written in the middle of the night. It's supposed to take place in the episode of Brainscratch, when Spike is watching over Faye until she wakes up. I hope you like it.


	2. When did he begin to care?

**Author's note:** I hope you guys like it. It's not as good as the previous chapter but ah well. This is the quality you get when I'm 6 days away from exams and certain doom. Enjoy.

**When did he begin to care?**

He'd been awake for about an hour now, but he still felt sick. Wholly incapable of removing his thoughts away from Julia, from the dream that felt painfully real, he waited impatiently for it to fade. He could smell her scent in the air and if he closed his eyes for too long, he could feel her skin as it touched him. These days were the hardest to survive and these were the times when he needed Faye the most, and conveniently, today of all days, she chose to actually hunt for a bounty? It was typical – Sod's Law and all that.

He heard her ship land from a distance and he left his room. He entered the lounge in time to see her limp in; blood was splattered generously over her body, some of it clearly hers from cuts and grazes. If her scowl was anything to go by, she was in a foul mood too; a bad day for the both of them, apparently. She didn't bother looking at him and he didn't bother saying anything to her. He just trudged back to his room. There was no point in approaching her when she was in a bad mood and had had such a bad day.

She entered his room without knocking a while later. She'd cleaned herself up, removing the blood, wiping the cuts, smelling nice – was it a flowery smell or a fruity one? He didn't know and didn't care either, really. She stood there, leaning against the door, and he looked into her eyes then. She looked tired...and worse, she looked defeated. She looked defeated and sad and so young that he felt compassion stirring for her. He hated the (very few) times when she looked this vulnerable. It made him feel uncomfortable, like he should protect her in some way. But what would he protect her from? As far as he could tell, she was more than damaged when he had first met her. He had a feeling she was just as broken as he was. Maybe that was why they connected so well that they constantly clashed?

She was looking at him, and he couldn't really interpret her glance. It looked innocently curious but he knew from past experiences to never trust anything to do with Faye. She had more sides than...well, than anything he could think of. She had more shades than the visual spectrum too. He was pretty sure she went into the UV segments and the IR section too. She was like that – breaking any and every rule. At least it kept him amused.

She moved into the room now, closing the door behind her. After a small pause, she locked the door too, the whole time keeping her eyes on him. She was like that sometimes – she just knew where everything was and she managed to do everything as if she had always done it. Of course, most of the time, she was oblivious and stupid, lacking knowledge of anything and everything. He found her irritating and endearing at the same time, those times. She was a little bit like a puppy. Yes, that was it. She was like a little puppy – he wanted to play with her and protect her but sometimes she got really annoying and he just wanted to smack her. A lot of times, she was that annoying, actually.

She was walking slowly towards him. It was just a slow walk, not wary or anything. It was just slow, taking her own time, probably because she just felt like it. He couldn't tell. He never could. She sat on his bed, taking special care to not touch him and she continued to look at him as he continued to stare at her.

It was sudden – without warning, although they had both known when it was going to happen – when she leaned in and kissed him. It started suddenly and ended just as suddenly. She moved herself to a more comfortable position on his bed, completely facing him now, and leaned in once more for a kiss. It was still sudden; god knows why it felt sudden every single and expected time. It didn't really matter.

The kiss continued and slowly began to get deeper. It felt more passionate, as if they were both putting all of their frustration into the kiss. Maybe they were hoping that it would help them heal; help them both become a little less broken? She placed one hand on his shoulder now, leaning on him gently. And then, she moved her other hand into his hair too, fully leaning into him now. He placed one of his arms around her waist, to position her differently, taking some of her weight more comfortably.

He was already topless, which made things a bit easier but she was still wearing her clothes, which made things harder but her top was soon gotten rid of. It was strange how they had started this...what was it? It was definitely not a relationship! It was something less emotional and more convenient; He used it to forget Julia, even if it was only for a few minutes. And Faye used it to escape whatever her demons were. He had a feeling it was the lack of her past that she tried to escape, using the sex as a means of firmly placing herself in the here and now, to avoid thinking about the back then that she doesn't know about. He sometimes heard muffled sobs coming from her room after they had done it and it made him feel guilty because while they were doing it, he never thought about Julia but Faye couldn't let go of her demons even for those few minutes.

Julia...yes, sex with Faye never reminded him of Julia. Faye was always on top and aggressive and assertive and...She definitely liked the control. He briefly wondered if maybe she needed the control. She probably did. It was good. It made things much easier for him and it was fun. It was a lot of fun. And it helped to distract him from Julia because it was nothing like Julia.

He hissed in a breath as she kissed that spot that _really _did things to him. Through it all, he sensed that she wasn't really interested in it tonight. Her kisses felt far more automatic and her caresses lacked the urgency she had when she really wanted it but it still worked wonders on him. It kept him thinking about Faye and _not_ thinking about Julia. It eased the pain enough so that Julia just became a dull ache in the background. A constant, persistent dull ache – that's what Julia was. And Faye? She was a VERY annoying pain in the ass. Two very different types of pains.

He smiled and then it was gone, because Faye was kissing him on the mouth, and this time, it seemed to have some urgency. She was present now, in the present time, with Spike, in his room, on him. He wondered where she had been before, but dismissed it from his mind. He would rather not know about Faye's sexual history, colourful and fascinating though it would undoubtedly be.

He sometimes objectively thought about how he responded to Faye – he always did. Even when it looked like he was just sleeping, he was still responding to her. Sometimes, when she crept into the lounge when he was 'sleeping', his muscles would tense, waiting for her to make some antagonistic remark or throw something at him. Most of the time, she would. The times when she didn't, he'd open his eyes the tiniest fraction, so that it still looked like he slept, and he'd watch her curiously. She was a very interesting character.

He stifled a groan as her hands trailed gently, promisingly, down his chest and towards his pants. Yes, Faye always got a reaction out of him. He always got a reaction out of her too. He smirked in his mind, because Faye was distracting him too much to smirk outside his mind, but he was definitely good at getting reactions out of her. She didn't even have to look at him and she came to his room here, today.

He frowned and his hands stiffened sharply on Faye's hips, where they had been resting. She looked up at him, pausing in her kisses along his collar bone, a puzzled look in her eyes. He found himself looking into her eyes – something he didn't do often. He wasn't sure what he was searching for or what he hoped to find, so he slackened his grip on her hips and lowered his lips to hers. It was in the middle of these kisses that he had the epiphany. He was wondering why she had come to his room without being asked when he realised it was so obvious. She knew him. She read him. And, worse, she apparently read him easily. This bothered him. He'd always thought he was a guy who managed to keep his secrets to himself but here was Faye, reading him as easily as a trashy novel. It bothered him. It bothered him a lot. But at least the Julia-pain was receding into the background, the way it always did with Faye.

His pants were off now and he could feel her taking her shorts off too. He was wondering if he could read her just as well when he realised that, yeah, he could. He always knew when Faye had been pondering her nonexistent past and he could sense when she needed to release her stress with him. He was there when she needed him, even if he didn't need it, and she was there when he needed her, even if she didn't need it, like now. He closed his eyes, the Julia-pain becoming firmly pushed into the usual, background dull pain as he pulled himself into the present with Faye and released the nightmare that had gripped him for the hours past.

Later, when she had redressed and was stepping through his doorway, he saw some hand-shaped vivid bruises on her hips and he felt a little guilty and a little sick. The light from the corridor outside was shining down on her, making her skin seem all the paler. The bruises and her recent bounty-hunting wounds made her skin seem all the more fragile, and Spike regretted hurting her, even if it was accidental and unintentional. She stepped through the door, never glancing back. He leaned back into his pillows, closing his eyes as the door shut behind Faye. He could see Julia and smell her and feel her but he still continued thinking about those stupid bruises he had left on Faye.

SHIT! When the fuck had he started caring about Faye?

* * *

**Author's note: **Ok, I know I'm a huge Faye/Spike fan but I hope I managed to convey the Julia/Spike in this too. As far as my intentions as an author were, it was to illustrate that Faye and Spike become shipmates with benefits (because you know they would deny being friends!) sometime after the movie and the Brain Scratch episode (and the previous chapter, obviously). However, I tried hard to show that it was completely not romantic and emotional and that it was just convenience...until Spike realises that it's not just convenience, right at the end. (Although it still is not romance and love and Spike/Faye!) Anyway, that's the end of my ramble. I hope you guys like it. I'm not as happy with it as the previous chapter, but I'm blaming it on my upcoming exams – starting 6 days from now. To quote Spike, SHIT! Ps, the next few are going to be very much Julia and Spike, because I feel like I need to tone down the Faye-ness in the Spike Files because...well, who would Spike be, without Julia?!


End file.
